DEW DROP

by John Herlihy

I saw a dew drop recently
Sitting quietly on a leaf.
They met early one morning
With the coming of the dawn.
While through the misty forest
Ran headlong a frightened fawn.

The dew drop fell unnoticed
Onto a lower leaf of the tree,
Fresh from a jagged sprig.
It was a rough old twig
With no time for a swig of tea.

For a second the dew drop waited
Not making any sudden moves,
Balancing itself on the edge of the leaf
Before plunging headlong.
Into the unknown open spaces below.

The quivering dew drop,
Hanging, not yet falling,
Shimmering sunlight in its tear.
A ladybug, alas, is approaching near
Shaking the leaf with its timid fear.

The dew drop will fall from its heaven
To the opening arms of the earth,
At a time of its own calling,
With no fear of its falling,
Landing on a blade of grass
That was growing like a spear.

Mother Nature asks no question
For which there is no clear reply.
If asked where she came from,
The dew drop had a quick refrain
I come from the heavens high above
I am the offspring of a gentle rain.

When it shines with sunlight
Reflected in its crystal eye,
The dew drop suddenly becomes a tear
As though rolling down a saddened face,
Painting a picture as delicate as lace.
Slowly, surely it descends to the earth
To be received into the soil as added worth.

What has happened?
We have a right to know.
What did we see in free fall?
Was it a tear drop full of sorrow
Or the dew drop refreshing the morrow?